


To Sit on a Throne

by Pyrosnowman



Series: Snowfall [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon divergence because I hate the chosen one trope, F/M, Petra is gay as shit but we aren't exploring that just yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrosnowman/pseuds/Pyrosnowman
Summary: A short summary of a Guardian who learned the Sword Logic and an essay on what it means to be Strong.





	To Sit on a Throne

Snow remembered the time before Towerfall. He remembered spending every waking moment in the Wilds, the kick of a handcannon and the feel of putting bullets through so many faceless enemies. When he had been newly rezzed, a kinderguardian with nothing but the fresh feel of Light and a Vanguard assigned cannon at his side, Snow had sometimes thought about how these Fallen talked to each other, just sort of _chatted_ with one another before he sprang from the shadows and dug his knife between their eyes. The sight of ether and blood splattered across his blade and helm used to bother him. Now though… now it was routine. He tried not to feel terrible for it. It was the Fallen who had struck at him when he had first awoken in the pits of the Cosmodrome. He had taken his name when he first walked out into the brisk air of Old Russia, his ghost had suggested to him that he should be more than just “Guardian”. Snow was what he saw, so Snow was what he was. Then of course, the Fallen had shot arc at him and names meant nothing, his world was now gunfire and adrenaline.

The Hive were easier. They didn’t chatter, they didn’t laugh, they _hissed_ and they screeched, and he remembered all too well the Wizard who taught him not to have pity. She taught him the Sword Logic, and he will never forget that lesson. He thanked her with a blade of arc, and he didn’t stop till she was a crumpled mess of carapace and blood, and the Knight who came to stop him even paused when Snow rose from her body, covered in gore and hands full of vengeful Light. The sword logic was freshly writ in his heart, carved in with the jagged claw of the Wizard, and Snow happily retaught the lesson to the Knight before him, carving his enemy to pieces with his own cracked blade.

Ghost was quieter after the Wizard, she was different. She became just a little bit more ruthless, more protective of Snow. She had always been quick to jump to his defense, but now there was an edge to her voice. He began to call her _Thandaa_ , “cold” in urdu for the way she shrugged off strangers and those she didn’t trust. Thandaa began to introduce herself that way after a while, and Snow felt a bit of pride for his Little Light for forging her own identity.

Months passed, and the wounds from his time in the Hellmouth began to scar and heal. Thandaa was still abrasive to all but Snow and his small group of friends, but she wasn’t quite the angry vengeful spirit she once was. Snow helped defeat the Black Heart (though it wasn’t him who the Exo Stranger approached), and he led the fireteam that finally took down Crota. The time after that was the longest he stayed in the Tower, spending days with Eris. They had a strange connection, both scarred by the Hive and devotees to their strange Sword Logic. He forged a friendship with her, built off of rage and vengeance, but it was more than shared bloodlust for the Hive that marred them both. A genuine friendship was born, and while she wasn’t the cheeriest of people, he still was happy to swap stories with her. He only left when the call from the Reef was made.

He came to realize that his Awoken brethren cared little for him—he was an Earthborn Awoken to them, an outsider, and a Guardian to boot. Petra Venj was the only one to ever smile at him, and he found himself sparring with her from time to time.

“I thought Hunters were supposed to be _good_ with knives!” she would tease. Snow always took that challenge, and her lessons made him quicker with the blade than he had ever been before. Sometimes he would leave his faithful canon holstered at his side, working only with his knife. Thandaa was quiet when he did that, preferring to let him fall into a strange meditation that only came in the quick breath of close quarters combat. He would leave those missions covered in ichor and gore, but Thandaa was always happiest after those jobs.

“Your Light is strong,” she said. “When you start to Dance, I can feel it pulse through me in waves.”

But then there was Oryx, and Snow knew the Taken King was here for vengeance. The Sword Logic demanded it, and though Snow was not the Hive, he and Eris were intimately aware of how the philosophy of the Hive functioned. He never told anyone but Eris this, but he enacted the Logic, in his own way. The Sword Logic was not inherently _Dark_ , it was a path to strength. What it was, was merciless. An unweathered, perfectly sharp blade was a blade untested. A worn and chipped blade was a blade that survived and conquered. Guardians were insane in their own whimsical way, and Snow was no different, but Snow and Thandaa never forgot what they were at heart.

Killers. Assassins. Soldiers. Their work was bloody, and it was their life. Small wonder that Guardians abandoned a small part of themselves to madness. They needed it to survive. Theirs was an army of the Faithful Undead, not quite human themselves, but the protectors of humanity nonetheless. And Snow, one of the six to lead vengeance on Crota, and the one who had personally cut him down, knew that Oryx was _his_. The Sword Logic demanded a meeting of Blades, and Snow was happy to oblige.

Under Cayde’s watchful eye (“He’s not the fool he pretends to be,” Thandaa told him), Snow learned the power of Void, he learned to draw the bow. For the first time in a long while, the Hunter brought forth more than just a knife of arc. He drew the Golden Gun and bathed his enemies in righteous sun-fire, he pulled the Void Bow and brought his foes to kneel, and yes, he sharpened his Arc Blade on the skulls of the Taken.

 _I have a Knife for you_ , Oryx whispered.

 _I don’t need it,_ Snow replied. _I have brought my own._

Their first true meeting aboard the Dreadnaught was when Oryx saw what he had suspected was lurking in Snow’s heart.

“You’ve seen our Logic,” the King mused.

“And I practice its ways,” Snow agreed. “I’m not the first of my order to do so.”

“Nor will you be the last. You Guardians are full of Light, and foolishly think yourselves equal to Gods for it, but you all crave strength as I do.”

Snow nodded. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why _you_ are here.”

“So you would meet me and my challenge?” Oryx chuckled. “You are bold, so called ‘Guardian’. “Yours will be a notch on my blade to remember.”

Snow did not hesitate to draw his canon, he emptied the clip into Oryx and dashed behind cover. The Hive and the Taken screeched and screamed for his blood, and he answered with bullets and blades. Oryx charged him with a sword raised high, and Snow let the Arc Light envelop him. They left deep wounds in each other, but Snow had learned the Sword Logic from the Hive themselves, and he had perfected his Dance against Petra Ven. Oryx was a test Snow was more than ready for.

His jagged blade hit nothing but air, Snow Danced in ways he had never done before. He struck with the speed and ferocity of the lightning in his blade, ducking below strikes and retaliating with his own. Oryx merely laughed and brought his own strength to bare.

The battle ended in minutes, Snow’s cloak was a tattered mess and his helm had been crushed and discarded. His burning orange eyes meat Oryx’s cold green ones, and Oryx _knelt._ He had lost, but he was not finished. Oryx _took_ himself, he used defeat to make himself stronger—just as the Logic demanded. Oryx broke his blade on Snow, and reforged himself from the shards. Snow in turn took the blade from his enemy’s hands and remade it for himself.

 _Raze-Lighter_ he had called it. It burned so very brightly, reforged Hadium into a weapon that enacted the Sword Logic through Light instead of Dark. Oryx reforged Willbreaker when Snow and his fireteam faced him again, and Raze-Lighter had cut it in two. Oryx was sent tumbling out of his Throne World and into the storms of Jupiter. Thandaa worried what the Nine would do to the body of the King (“We can’t possibly know their motives, but they _are not our allies_.”), but the matter was out of their hands for the moment.

When Snow next visited the Reef, Petra told him his blade was as sharp as hers, and Variks placed a hand on the Guardian’s shoulder with a question: “You reek of _strength_ , Guardian. Do you still seek it?”

_I have a Knife for you. It is [Logic] and you will teach it to others, though you have long since eclipsed it._

“There are other Guardians stronger than me, Variks. I can’t really stop seeking, can I?” he replied.

“There is always someone stronger, Guardian, and those at the top are doomed to fall. It is their fate.” Variks said with a shrug. “The Strong sit on a throne of Corpses, and it is never theirs for long.”

Snow’s thoughts flashed to the strongest of their number ( _Saint-14, Osiris, Toland, Wei Ning, Jarren Ward, Dredgen Yor, Ana Bray_ ) and knew that none of them still lived or walked the Tower. The Great Iron Lords had rusted and crumbled, and the few of the truly Strong who survived? Outcasts and loners deep in the Wilds.

Snow stayed in the Reef for weeks after that. He spent his time thinking, keeping the Prison of Elders in check, talking to Variks, and sparring with Petra. Her duties as acting Queen Regent left her little time to socialize, but she always made time for him. Snow wondered if perhaps things were different they might….

But that was not their reality. Uldren (the mangy crow had somehow survived and dragged himself back from Mars of all places) would bring his full force to bare against Venj if that were to happen, and even if he lost, the Reef would be divided. The Awoken had spent so long in isolation that they didn’t know how to let others back in, not yet. Mara Sov was working towards it, Snow saw that now, but it would take time, and longer now that the Queen was lost. Though, if her brother still lived, Snow couldn’t help but wonder if the Queen was really as dead as the Tower thought. The Reef held strange magic, beyond Light and Dark. Who could really say what they were capable of?

When the call to combat SIVA came, Snow reluctantly left—but not without a few choice words from Variks. “These Devils who robe themselves in machinery, they are _fools_ ,” the old Eliksni hissed in rage. “Relieve them of their pain, Guardian. _Use your Strength_.”

“I thought you told me to be wary of power?” Snow asked hesitantly.

Variks paused at that, and he almost seemed sad when he said, “Yours is a path you’ve already decided to walk. You have no choice but to seek the strength you need, for you and yours have issued a challenge to the stars. They will come here soon, and Unification will be brought upon us, or we will die.”

“We’re going to fall, aren’t we?” Snow realized.

“I told you, Guardian of Light. The Strong are doomed to fall.” Variks took a shuttering breath. “But I wonder. Are those who fall cursed to never rise? And those who always rise, can they ever be laid low?”

Years passed.

Snow had not forgotten Variks and his final words. The Hunter had stopped returning to the Reef, Petra was unable to meet him as before, and Variks spoke now only of unification. There was nothing left for him there, not anymore. The Tower lost Eris, and though Snow had always known she wouldn’t wait for him, he still felt a tug of regret that he hadn’t been able to wish his friend farewell. He knew that she would tread a path of shadow now, and his friend would have to walk it without him. He left Raze-Lighter in his vault—the Sword Logic would not serve Snow now—and the Hunter began to make friends again. He had drinks with Cayde and would have long talks with Ikora on the nature of Darkness and the Sword Logic (for even though he no longer practiced its code, his understanding of it made the Hive easier to predict and control). She offered him a place in her Hidden, but Snow was not quite ready to dive back into the Darkness. Snow was left marred by what happened to him so long ago in the Hellmouth, and he had dueled darkness for so long that he had even adopted a piece of it for himself. For the moment, he needed to learn how to use that piece, how to become a Guardian once more.

“How long can we sit idle?” Thandaa demanded. “How long will you twiddle your thumbs?”

“We do patrols, we form strike teams, we serve the Vanguard. How is that idle?” he snapped.

Thandaa whirled on him, her tines spinning angrily. “You are _procrastinating_. Variks knows something is coming, _you_ know something is coming. The Cabal are sending frantic reports and someone is responding. We need to be ready, Snow! You have never hesitated before, even when you saw the lining of a society with the Fallen, you never hesitated to strike because it was _what you needed to do_.”

Snow stood, angry now, his eyes blazing in the way that only Awoken’s could. “We _are_ strong, Thandaa! We wanted to be powerful so damn badly that we used the _Hive_ to do so. Worse, we gave the Logic to other Guardians! Touch of Malice, it’s carried by the Warlock who walked with us to tear down Oryx! The Taken King _lives_ and we brought him to the fucking Tower! Why do you think Saladin asked for the Guardian who slew Skolas and not _us_ when SIVA struck? Why do you think Zavala is wary of us? If we aren’t careful, we’ll stop just using the Sword Logic and accept the Darkness itself. Go ahead and tell me the list of Guardians who walked away from _that_ successfully. Go on, I’ll wait.”

Silence.

“It’s because _there are none_ ,” Snow hissed. “Dredgen Yor killed civilians and other Guardians to test his strength. He had to be put down like a _dog_ by a Guardian who inherited his strength from the man who died to Yor. Not even one of our own number could do it, a Civilian turned Guardian was the one who managed that little feat. Toland? Oh yes, I’m sure he’s having a grand old time wandering the Hive Throne Worlds and being tortured by Savathun. Osiris split the city in two! You _told_ me that the second he suggested the Darkness could be used, he almost caused another civil war!”

“Yes! They failed! Every single one of them failed and either died or were exiled, but you yourself are proof that we can turn things to our favor. The Sword Logic has no alliance, it is a philosophy only. To grow strong, we cut down the stronger. Contentment breeds weakness, so you must break free of the bonds of fate and seek your own strength. _That_ is the Sword Logic, and you made a blade from it! A blade so full of Light that the damn thing is constantly flickering with Solar fire!” Thandaa shot back.

Snow clenched his jaw and turned away, his boots crunching in the fresh snow underfoot. Thandaa followed him, her voice gentler now. “We aren’t young and fresh anymore. You aren’t full of anger as you were when you faced Crota, and you aren’t the same person you were when you cut down Oryx. I think now, you can control the Logic instead of it controlling you. Oryx offered you a knife, Snow. Take it, and do what you did to his sword: make it your own.”

Snow knew she was right, but he couldn’t. Not yet. It wasn’t until the Red Legion, when he saw Ghaul stand before him that he understood his folly. The Tower and the City had grown confident and content in their victories, and now they were paying the price for failing to grow stronger. Snow could have taught them the Sword Logic, he could’ve made them stronger. When Snow stood, fresh from being kicked off the Cabal ship, he vowed not to make the same mistake twice. Thandaa, weakened as she was, knew that her Guardian had managed to find his resolve.

Snow found his Light again, deep in the Dark Forest. When he called on the Light, the Arc Blade did not greet him this time, but instead he found the Arcstaff, and Snow felt something in himself shift and change. Before, he sharpened his blade and sought strength for himself. He was wounded and raw from the Wizard in the Hellmouth, but now? Now he was a Guardian. He was a protector, and he would use whatever was at his means to protect humanity. The Sword Logic was his now. The knife Oryx had offered? It did not Take him, Snow had instead reforged it. He brought the Logic to the remaining Guardians, and they used it to strengthen themselves even without Light. They won back the City, and in the shadow of their ruined Tower, the Guardians rebuilt themselves and earned their Light back.

Snow understood now. Variks was right, the powerful and mighty were doomed to fall. The Guardians were strong, Snow knew that they would fall. But that was what made them different, wasn’t it? Guardians don’t stay down. Humanity did not die quietly, and it was ready to come back stronger. In a strange way, Humanity had always practiced a form of the Sword Logic, and now it did not scare Snow.

 _His Knife is [Strength], and he is Unbreakable_.


End file.
